


luna

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fantasy Fulfillment, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Moving In Together, Mutual Masturbation, Nancy Drew Files, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: Nancy finds a way past a setback in her relationship with Ned.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	luna

The clouds had arrived that morning in Chicago. After a week of record-breaking high temperatures, so hot the pavement was scalding, so hot the air seared lungs like boiling soup, a cold front had finally moved in and dropped temperatures ten degrees. Ned had spent the morning at the River Heights Country Club with his father and Carson Drew, and had accepted the suggestion for lunch after. He'd had no reason to hurry back to Chicago; Nancy was on a case, and his nascent plans with Mike, Jerry, and Paul were for the evening.

His apartment usually looked lived-in: a few empty coffee mugs in the main room, a few dishes in the sink, a half-full hamper in his bedroom. Today, though, he felt too good. The dishwasher was running, his clothes hamper was empty, and he just had to fold what he'd fished out of the dryer this morning. He had pulled up his favorite playlist and it was pounding through his bathroom speaker, audible even through the din of the shower.

He was grinning under the spray when an upbeat song ended, and when the next came up, his grin faded into a smile as it hit him. He rubbed his wet knuckles across his wet scalp, then scrubbed the heel of his hand against the beginnings of stubble on his jaw.

He missed Nancy. God, he missed her.

She was both everywhere and nowhere in his apartment. His electric toothbrush was the only one at the sink, but when he opened the cabinet for his deodorant, he saw the box of tampons she had stashed there. He walked into his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair still damp, and pulled out a dresser drawer for a pair of clean underwear; no frilly, lacy lingerie was kept there, but he saw the oversized Emerson t-shirt she called her good-luck charm, washed so many times the fabric was nearly translucent now. On the side of the bed he slept on, his alarm clock faced him from the small table, along with a lamp and the chaotic tangle of charger cords. The table on the other side of the bed held only the matching lamp. But sometimes, when he rolled over and breathed in, he could still smell the scent of her shampoo lingering on the other pillow.

Ned could really only spend time with her on the weekends, but thanks to her status as a trainee, she was given all the shitty work that tied her up: tedious background checks, long surveillance shifts, digging through physical court records. One day, it would all pay off. It just hadn't yet.

Besides, her being called a trainee was bullshit, as far as Ned was concerned. She had been working hard as an amateur detective for _years_ now, and forcing her to learn the ropes with a licensed investigator was laughable.

He padded from his bedroom to the main room on bare feet, leaving faint footprints that vanished on the dark hardwood behind him, unconsciously digging his toes into the shag rug for a moment. He tugged the pull for the blinds, and they shifted with a quiet, papery creak, the slats dark slashes against the view. Outside, everything was in shades of blue and gray. Tonight, maybe the front would bring rain. Tonight, he would probably get drunk and end up on Jan and Mike's couch, thinking of here and _this_ , thinking of loneliness and need.

Thinking of her and all the ways he had slowly come to need her, while carefully building a life that could function without her.

Then the laundry was folded and he was in front of the television with his phone in his hand, his gaze drawn to the window, over and over. All day he'd felt like he was waiting for something, but there was nothing to wait for, nothing to anticipate. Paul had just sent a message in the group chat, and Ned glanced to it from ESPN. He had four of a six-pack left in the fridge, and he could always call a ride to Mike's place if he needed it.

When Nancy was here, the beer stayed in the fridge.

Ned shook his head and took a long, slow breath. He wasn't drinking all the time, but ever since Omega Chi, on the weekends, it felt... wrong, almost, not to. When they ended up back at Mike's house or Howie's apartment, playing cards, devouring bags of chips, ordering pizza at midnight, beer was just another part of it. It felt now, it felt then, like a way to stave off the loneliness at being apart.

He glanced down at his phone again and hesitated, then pulled her name up in his messaging app. Her last message to him had been the day before, confirming that they were on for next weekend, apologizing yet again for not seeing him in so long.

Even now, what was she doing?

He glanced at the other end of the couch. One day he would find the right words, and he'd ask her to move in with him. She would be there, legs curled up beside her, gazing intently at her laptop screen or her cell phone, idly tucking a lock of hair behind an ear as she worked. He would hear her laughter in the kitchen, sharing some joke with Jan as he played cards with the guys in the other room, and she would be the one to tuck him in bed after, giggling and squirming and melting under him when he wrapped her in his arms and nuzzled against her neck, his hips between her thighs.

One day she would trust him again.

Ned covered his eyes for a moment, then dry-washed his face with his palms and sighed. The hairline-thin silver lining to all this meant he was perfectly at ease around Carson Drew, knowing that he hadn't corrupted the man's baby girl, his cherished only daughter. They hadn't spent weekends wrapped around each other in Ned's bed, interrupting long lovemaking sessions only for food and bathroom breaks.

After that one night, a night that had begun tender and passionate in his room at Omega Chi and ended abruptly with her tearfully tugging her clothes back on and heading to Theta Pi... she hadn't been ready, wasn't ready. In their eagerness, he had somehow hurt her. And he had vowed to her and to himself that he would wait until she really was ready. They were committed to each other, and sex wasn't everything. It wasn't the most important aspect of their relationship. She had just turned back the clock a little, and they could still hold each other, could still do everything that involved clothes still being on. Stopping when she was naked, when he was so hard for her and wanted her so much that he ached, granted the incredibly erotic, unspeakably torturous gift of watching her pleasure herself and sob his name as she came...

Some nights he was pretty sure it was more than he deserved, really.

_Fuck_ , he remembered the feel of her, slick and hot and tight around the head of his cock, in those last moments before it had been too much. He remembered it and stroked himself, his gaze locked to hers as she rubbed her clit and gasped in delight. He remembered it and damned himself as he cleaned himself up after.

It was sex and it wasn't. It was safe and it was maddening. He touched himself and imagined her; she touched herself and, she had admitted to him, thought of him. During those times, they were on his bed together, only a few feet apart, but it might as well have been miles that were usually between them when he fantasized about her and brought himself to climax.

Ned shook his head, pushing himself to his feet and heading to the kitchen to take his mind off it. He dropped a few ice cubes into a glass and poured filtered water over them, downing half before slowly walking back into the main room.

_Are you sure this is okay?_ Her voice, strangely tentative, worried. Her blue eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight as she cuddled up to him for the few minutes she could linger after that first time, both of them sated, her skin so warm through the thin cotton of her panties.

It was okay. It was erotic and incredible. It wasn't enough to make him forget what he ultimately wanted, but nothing could be. And when he kissed her, whispering into her neck that she was the love of his life, the only one for him in the world, he felt her relax under him, drawing her fingers through his hair, over and over.

He understood what she couldn't quite bring herself to ask. Yes, other women would give him more, if he let them. But he wouldn't trade that for hearing her cry out his name, her head tipped back, hips thrusting, as she came. He wouldn't trade that for holding her gaze and watching her squirm as he closed his mouth around the fingers she had just been using to fuck herself, licking and sucking her tangy, slick arousal off her skin. He wouldn't trade that for holding her all too briefly after, for those few minutes or quick hour before she returned to her father's house.

He had to believe that one day she would stay the night. One day, she would find a way to trust him again, and he would find a way to earn that trust in return.

\--

This wasn't the way she had imagined it, but she was beyond caring.

Nancy's heart was pounding as she approached his door. She could still message him; she _should_ message him—but her heart was in her throat and she wasn't sure what she could even say to him.

Her key to Ned's apartment door was on her keyring, but she had never used it. She reached up and knocked, took a step back so he would be able to see her clearly, and tried to slow her breathing. Any attempt to calm herself down was just ending miserably.

The door opened. "Baby," he said happily, and she had only the vaguest impressions of what he was wearing—jeans, polo shirt, bare feet, already dressed for the night out she knew he was going to have—before she was stepping inside, her gaze locked to his handsome face. Dark, dark brown hair, gorgeous long-lashed dark eyes, the clean smell of water and soap and his woodsy aftershave, and ah fuck, he had just become more beautiful since they had met. He had been _a man_ to her when they met, the three years between them meaning she was still firmly _a girl._

She was a _woman_ , now, and this was one of the few times she had felt it so completely.

She straightened her arm and sent her purse to the floor with a quick shrug, hearing it hit with a thump as she took another step forward and slid her arms up over his shoulders. Immediately he boosted her, kicking the door shut just before her mouth met his.

Mouth, tongue, the way he possessed her, his hair under her fingers as she pulled him impossibly closer, her body pressed tight to his, warm muscular firmness against the yield of her own softness. Her legs somehow around him and his arms supporting her ass. She didn't taste any beer on his breath, only a trace of mint toothpaste.

He took a few steps forward and she heard the snick of the deadbolt as he braced her against the back of his door. He teased her with a few nipping kisses, and when she dragged her fingernails over his shirt, against his shoulder blades, she felt his hips surge between her spread thighs, and his dark-eyed gaze had gone from pleased surprise to smoldering need.

Yes. She knew what she was doing.

She knew very exactly that she didn't know what she was doing.

She ground herself deliberately against him, and they groaned quietly before their lips met again. She felt liquid, as though only sheer force of will was keeping her together.

It wasn't even twilight. Everything about this was wrong. Everything...

She had everything here, wrapped in her desperate embrace.

"I need you," she gasped, breathless, and it wasn't the husky invitation of a lover, it wasn't assured and seductive. It was a reluctant admission, murmured with a blush. She nuzzled against his jaw, brushing kisses beneath his ear and against his neck, shuddering with joy when she felt his warm breath against her skin.

She should have—

It didn't matter. It didn't matter that she was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt instead of a dress, that her bra and underwear weren't translucent lace. It didn't matter that there was no champagne, that a trail of rose petals didn't bloom with their crushed fragrance as he followed it to his bedroom.

It mattered that he turned and took her to his bedroom at all, that the feel of his tongue against her neck sent a trembling to her hips, that it was cool here in the shaded sunlight and he laid her on his bed reverently, worship and hesitant need in his gaze, his hips tight against hers.

"Baby," she sighed, cupping his cheek, tracing his eyebrow with the ball of her thumb. She grabbed a handful of his shirt and tugged him down, until he was pinning her to his bed, until she was powerless under the weight of him.

"Baby," he breathed, his mouth finding hers again. Her legs were still wrapped around him, and she somehow managed to focus long enough to find the hem of his shirt and tug it up.

He took the hint. He was eager enough, at this point, eager to come right up to the line she had drawn between them. He stripped his shirt off as she yanked her own off, as fast as she could. Then she tossed her bra to join it and his eyes widened as he perched over her.

He was safe, inside the line. She was standing firmly on it, edging out.

That night... it had hurt both of them. She had imagined she was ready, and discovered that as much as she loved him, as much as she loved being with him, that wasn't enough. Ned, who had always been so protective of her, so unwilling to see her hurt, had blamed himself. The compromise she offered had to have been hellishly tempting for him, but he had never complained.

And he respected her so much that even now, feeling him hard under his jeans and knowing how much he wanted her, he was waiting for her cue instead of just assuming her breathless consent.

She nudged his hips with hers, and he swallowed, rolling over so she was perched over him. She straddled him and leaned down, breathing out in a pleased sigh as her pebbled nipples and bare breasts pressed directly against his warm, muscular chest, and his lashes fluttered down. They hadn't done this in a long, long time.

Then she heard a muted buzzing, and Ned's hips jolted as his eyes flew open.

"Shit," he muttered, and she had to smile as he arched his back to reach his back jeans pocket. He pulled out his phone and tossed it a few inches away on the comforter.

"You have plans tonight," she murmured, but she didn't make any move to climb off him.

He nodded, studying her face. "Or maybe I _did_ ," he said slowly, the faintest question in his voice.

"Dad thinks I'm staying with Bess tonight," she said, her words just as slow and deliberate.

Ned held her gaze for a beat, then grabbed his phone and started typing. Nancy slid off him and stood, pushing her shorts down, kicking them to join her t-shirt and bra. She stood there in her panties, watching as Ned placed his phone on the bedside table and turned back to her. Then she pushed her panties down, too.

He frowned slightly, incredibly briefly, in disappointment. He knew what this meant: no more kissing, caressing, loving. No more touching each other until her clothes were back on. Ever since that night, the lead-up to this had been their drug, or at least it had been hers. Being able to lose herself in his embrace, knowing that no matter what, it wouldn't end in pain and tears again, had been incredible.

Intimacy without touching. Sharing something so deeply private with him, and seeing the naked desire in his gaze, his hunger for her. Some nights she had been so self-conscious that she hadn't been able to make herself climax. Some afternoons she had closed her eyes and imagined his tongue against her clit as her thumb stroked over it, and had practically come on that alone.

And oh God, she had watched him, as intently as he watched her. She had known that this day would come, and more knowledge could only help. One day her fist would be the one wrapped around his cock. One day it would be him, _his_ hands, _his_ caress, bringing her to climax instead of her own.

Again. Again. They had shared so much until her fear had built that wall between them.

"Take your jeans off," she murmured.

He stood, and their gazes were locked as he moved to stand a foot away from her, unfastening his fly. He was straining against his underwear, but she had known that.

She closed the distance between them with him still watching her curiously, and she brought her hand up, rubbing her palm over his chest, up to his shoulder, to cup the back of his neck. She drew him down and stood on her tiptoes to meet him, her nipples brushing against his chest as she slid her other hand down, between the band of his underwear and his skin.

He met her kiss and returned it hungrily, impatiently shoving his underwear down as she grasped his cock and slowly pumped it in her fist. He kicked his underwear off and turned and then they were crashing into the bed together, tipping onto the mattress, his tongue in her mouth, and _God_ she needed more, more of the feel of his skin against hers, more of his touch, more of all they had given up after that night.

"God," he groaned, and then his mouth was on her breast and she had one leg slung around him, all of her gone liquid and pliant, her fingers combing through his hair and her lips parted. His palms cupping her bare hips, _fuck_ , how, how had she given this up...

She had just been so, so afraid.

"Here," she moaned, drawing him back up to her, and in the middle of a kiss that was almost intense enough to make her forget her own name, she flipped him onto his back and straddled him again. Now there was nothing between them, no underwear, nothing but air and then not even that.

She reached down and parted her sex so her incredibly slick, hot inner flesh was directly against his hot, hard cock.

Ned made a sound that was almost wounded, almost shocked. Nancy perched over him, gazing into his face as she ground herself deliberately against him, caressing his cock with her plush, tender inner flesh, a shudder working its way up her spine and dropping her jaw as the tip of his cock barely brushed against the sensitive bud of her clit.

"Jesus Christ," Ned groaned, and then his hand was tangled in her hair and his kiss was savage. She had been wet even before he had opened his door to her, and she kept stroking up and down the length of his cock with the lips of her sex, leaving both of them slippery from her arousal.

"I need you," she moaned, rubbing herself wantonly against him, the tender buds of her tight nipples, her swollen starved clit, her sex pulsing with every rhythmic thrust of her hips. He grasped her, guiding her, so tight... "Inside me..."

_Jesus._

"Now?"

"Yes," she gasped. He had to be close to exploding; she was desperate for anything, any rapid stimulation against her clit, anything to fill the need between her legs.

He rolled her onto her back, and she loosely wrapped her legs around him, forcing herself to stay focused on him. She was so keyed up that she could finish herself off quickly, but she didn't want that.

Finally, the promise of pain wasn't enough to stop her anymore.

Just the look in his eyes made her hips jolt in anticipation. Holy fuck was he gorgeous, and being able to see and feel how turned on he was by her and this was almost humbling. His finger swiped low between her legs and she was so sensitized that she released a wounded whimper, just as he muttered a curse in appreciation.

"Please," she moaned. His cock was glistening with her arousal. "Baby..."

He was panting. "Slow?"

She held his gaze and shook her head.

He was still standing up at the edge of his bed, and her ass was at the edge of the mattress. Her pulse was hard, beating in her throat as he adjusted himself, and then the head of his cock was in contact with her, low between her legs, where she had imagined and remembered it so many times as she settled for the penetration of her own fingers.

His lashes fluttered, and she was both trying to remember it all, and trying not to. It wasn't like the sight of him naked was a new one, but _this_ , being under him, watching him prop himself above her and gaze down into her face, aware of how exposed and vulnerable she was and how much she trusted him...

And aware of his own fear, too. She licked her lips and his dark-eyed gaze darted down to follow the movement, and then she reached up for him, pulling him impossibly closer, feeling him shift so slightly inside her.

"Come to me," she breathed, just before their mouths met.

His tongue stroked and retreated, and she could feel his fingertips against her skin, but when he moved inside her, nothing else seemed to matter. She kept her legs around him, tight, to encourage him and keep him from changing his mind.

And oh God, oh _God_ , he was so big.

She whimpered against their kiss, but kept her legs locked around him. He slid a little deeper and pulled back as she arched, tipping her head back and panting harshly.

"Baby..."

"Yes," she answered the question he couldn't quite bring himself to ask.

He was filling her, so tight, and she closed her fingers into a fist, her nails scraping against his shoulder blades. "Holy fuck," he muttered, retreating again, butting against that soreness, the same place she had begged off, crying, before—

She didn't scream, not quite. The soreness flared inside her and for an instant it was unbearable, and she sobbed out a cry, her body rigid as she forced herself not to push him away, not again.

He retreated without quite pulling out of her, and the drag of his cock against tender, swollen inner flesh made her flinch and gasp again.

"We can stop."

His voice was quiet, almost defeated. Resigned.

She relaxed her muscles one by one, bringing her chin down as she opened her eyes again. Tears had slid over her cheeks; she could feel them, cool against the shells of her ears. His jaw was set, and his dark eyes were full of pain. The clouds that had hidden the sun for most of the day were casting his bed in shadow. The television was still on in the other room.

She drew him down to her for another kiss, slow and almost sweet, tender and gentle. His lips were brushing against her temple after, and she could feel the ache in him, his pain at knowing he had hurt her again. That she would stop him again.

She opened her legs a little further and slid them down to twine around his upper thighs, then bucked her hips to take him inside her again.

"Jesus," he gasped, moving to look into her eyes, and when she bucked again he slid deep, gliding so smoothly, filling her.

Nancy nodded, her eyes filling with tears she impatiently brushed away. Bess had described that soreness, and now they were past it; she felt a twinge, an echo of the pain as he brushed that place again, but it was nothing like it had been the first time. She relaxed more deeply before tightening her legs around him and bucking her hips again.

Ned groaned, and then he was driving in and out of her in smooth, regular thrusts, drawing back until just the tip of him was inside her and then gliding in again. The look in his eyes, pleasure and desire and raw lust, sent a shudder down her spine, had her sliding her hand between her legs as she kept her other hand fisted at his shoulder blades.

At the first brush of her finger against her clit, she sucked in a breath to scream and her hips jolted hard. Ned glanced down, and then she saw his teeth gleam as he grinned. "Will you come for me, beautiful?" he panted as he moved over her.

"I hope so," she panted in reply. Then she moaned loudly, arching up off the bed, frantically stroking her clit as he rapidly thrust his full length inside her. 

He held there, letting his breath out in a moan, his hips flush against her and angled so that he had her almost fully in his power. She was still rapidly stroking herself when he reached down and picked up her hand, then brought it to his mouth. He locked his gaze to hers, sucking the fingers she had been using to stimulate herself into his mouth as he stroked a hand down her belly, to where they were joined.

He released her fingers with a wet pop. "My turn," he said, his voice low and rough.

Together, with his fingers fucking _expertly_ teasing her clit and her hands on her breasts, fondling and pinching her nipples, they brought her to orgasm. He spent some of that time kissing her, letting her taste her own arousal on his tongue, matching the strokes of his tongue to those of his fingers. He spent some of that time watching her, his gaze heavy-lidded. But he stayed buried inside her, his cock rigid and thick and hot, filling her to the point of aching bliss. When they first felt the tightening pulse of her sex around his cock, his eyes rolled back, but he didn't stop stroking her clit.

"Yes," he hissed. "Jesus fucking Christ."

She was releasing soft mewling noises, rocking her hips in the tiniest thrusts even though she was pinned under him, but as she came undone her groans were low, pleading and demanding, so unmistakably orgasmic that they brought a flush to her cheeks. He matched the strokes of his fingers over her clit to those weak thrusts, and her inner flesh trembled around him in tiny shivers of delight.

Then, without warning, he made his strokes rapid and rough, and then he was pulling out of her to slam back in, and—

" _Ned!_ " She screamed his name, her head tipped back and her eyes rolling back, following the rhythm of his fondling and meeting his every thrust with a jolt of her hips. She reached down to help him touch her and the stimulation of her own fingers made her arch again, sobbing helplessly, begging him for more as she grinned at the pleasure of it.

"I—" She heard the desperation in his cry and somehow forced her eyes open, brought her chin down. His skin was gleaming from exertion and he was fucking her rapidly, wetly, his balls slapping against her ass. His teeth were clenched with the effort of holding back, of giving her pleasure before he took his own.

"Yes," she cried, rapidly stroking her clit, her rhythm stuttering as the pleasure became unbearable.

He cried out too, thrusting inside her one last time, stiffening for a long moment and then relaxing. All of her was so sensitive, but as she panted her breath back, as he slowly collapsed to her, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. She could feel his chest filling and relaxing as she slowly came down from her climax. Everything was intensified: his skin, his weight, his breath as they touched her. She realized she was shivering, and then Ned muttered an apologetic curse and shifted off her, and she gasped at the loss of contact.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, and she closed her eyes, slowly bringing her legs back together. She didn't feel bruised, not quite, but she felt stretched and sore, and not just between her legs. She wasn't used to this.

"Here," he murmured a moment later, and she opened her eyes to find him offering her a warm, wet washcloth. She wiped her hands and then her thighs, moving slowly, almost stiffly. She winced when she saw the washcloth she handed back to him bore a few faint traces of blood.

Ned made a quiet sound that wasn't quite anguished, and as he returned to the bathroom, Nancy glanced up at the head of the bed. She crawled toward it, pulled back the covers and wrestled them over her, sighing in contentment as she relaxed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied, without opening her eyes. "C'mere."

She heard and felt the bed shift, could feel the warmth radiating from him before she blindly nestled herself against his naked body and felt him embrace her.

It was still early. She sighed contentedly and nuzzled against him as he stroked her back, and they didn't speak.

She might have drifted off; she wasn't sure. She opened her eyes suddenly and murmured, "Are _you_ okay?"

She heard him chuckle. "Yeah, baby," he murmured. "Very okay. In shock, I think."

She smiled against his skin and relaxed again. He was still idly stroking her back as she whispered, "Do you need to get dressed?"

Ned's hand stopped. "I thought—did I misunderstand? Did you say your dad thinks you're with Bess tonight?"

"Yeah." She sniffed and wriggled upward a little, then moved to look into his face. "But if you want me to go, I'll just tell him something came up."

Ned's brow was furrowed. "Why would I want you to go?"

She shrugged, glancing away. "Because I didn't—ask, I just invited myself over, barged in here and... you were gonna go out tonight, and..."

His fingertips trailed idly over her hip, her thigh, and the reminder of his touch in other nearby places made her tingle. "There will be other nights," he said, his voice low and rough, incredibly sexy. Her lashes fluttered down when his lips brushed her ear. "But tonight... there will never be another night like this. The first time."

She smiled. "It wasn't the way I imagined it," she admitted.

His fingertips stilled. "Did I..."

She opened her eyes again, reaching up to trace his lips with her thumb, to forestall the doubt and fear. "You were perfect," she whispered, and met his gaze. "I wasn't dressed right, it was supposed to be dark and romantic..."

And then Ned's stomach growled loudly, and when he chuckled, Nancy dissolved in laughter.

"How about I order us a pizza and we'll do it over, the way you imagined it?"

Her grin faded into a small smile. "Pretty sure we can't redo our first time."

"Of course we can." Then he paused, and stroked her cheek. "But you're probably sore...?"

She nodded, reluctantly. She didn't know why she was surprised, but it was a little disappointing. Given how much pent-up sexual frustration she had brought with her, she had thought they would need to have sex at least five times for her to be satisfied. This... this was everything, though. Being safe and relaxed in his arms after, and realizing with a happy jolt every few seconds that it had _really happened,_ and it had been incredible.

Ned slid out of bed without explaining why, and Nancy sat up, watching him head toward his bathroom. She relaxed against the headboard, and when she heard the faint buzz of his phone receiving an incoming message, she automatically turned to look at the display.

_Maybe tonight you'll finally get lucky!_

The text was from Mike. Nancy's eyes widened, and when Ned returned with a bottle of aspirin and a cup of water, she extended his phone to him without even trying to pretend she hadn't seen it. "Thanks," she murmured as they swapped.

Ned sat down on the bed with his underwear in one hand and his phone in the other, and groaned as he read the message. "Shit," he muttered.

"So Mike knows I haven't been putting out, huh." Nancy put two capsules on the back of her tongue and washed them down with a long sip of water. "Hadn't," she amended.

He dropped the phone to the bed and ran a hand through his hair. "I only mentioned it the one time, and only because I was drunk," he admitted. "We all were."

"' _We all'_?" She gathered her hair in her fist and tossed it behind her shoulders.

"Mike was the only one who heard. Anyway." He sighed. "Sorry."

Nancy shrugged. "It's all right."

Ned turned to her, his eyebrow rising. Then his brow cleared. "Ah. Bess and George know?"

She nodded. "George doesn't care. _Seriously_ doesn't care. Would rather be agnostic about it, actually. Bess... gives me pointers."

He chuckled as he pulled his underwear on. "No surprises there."

She glanced down, hating that she was insecure. "So... I was all right?"

He stood to pull his jeans back up. "If Bess coached you through that, remind me to buy her a box of chocolates," he replied. "Baby, you were fucking incredible. Every nuance of that pun entirely intended."

She grinned. "Good."

\--

The shifting images on the television painted her bare skin in harsh blue, a strobed wash of color punctuated by dialogue that he couldn't have given less of a fuck about. He was only glad her sobs were louder. Mesmerized, spellbound, he gazed up at her as she burbled her pleasure, using the fingers of her free hand to pinch and tweak each nipple in turn. Her other hand was buried in his hair, gripping it to keep his face between her thighs. Her legs were folded over his shoulders and her hips were rocking.

He released the pressure of his suckling against her clit so he could glance his teeth over it a few times, and she bucked, throwing her head back, back arched as she cried out in ecstasy.

Jesus. He had been so starved for her that he had fantasized about _this_ , and even his fantasies paled against the reality of kneeling before her, worshipping her, pleasuring her. She was completely naked, still tender inside from _taking his entire fucking cock and climaxing around it,_ and this had felt like a good compromise.

Maybe next weekend she would be recovered. Maybe next weekend he could bend her over his couch and fuck her until she sobbed his name, until the gloriously slick passage of her gorgeous sex throbbed around him and milked his cock of every last drop of cum.

Maybe he had spent a little too much time fantasizing.

"Don't stop _don't stop oh_ —"

Her inner flesh tightened around his index finger, the most he trusted himself to penetrate her with now, the most she had hesitantly agreed to. He could feel her body drawing close around that motionless penetration, trying to draw him deeper, and his own hips jolted in answer to that call.

He gently bit her clit, breathing her in as her hips rocked against his face, and she breathlessly screamed his name.

His hand was trembling as he impatiently shoved his boxers down. She sobbed at the stimulation when he rubbed his palm against the slippery, tender lips of her sex, then used the lube of her arousal to frantically jerk himself off. He stroked his teeth against her clit in the same rhythm his hand stroked his cock, and she cried out again, arching even more, until the back of her head had to be against the low back of his couch. She was still playing with her nipples, and her grip on his hair was so tight it was on the edge of painful.

He moaned loudly as he spent himself into the cup of his hand, then glanced the sandpaper edge of his chin over her tender clit.

Her hips jolted as her sex tightened around his finger in a long, hard spasm. Then her hand fell limp on the couch beside her after she released his hair, the rest of her body still rigid as she pulsed around him with her climax.

When he gazed up at her, she looked... thoroughly fucked. Gorgeous, flushed, wanton, legs spread, nipples tight. Slowly she relaxed, boneless and spent, and he felt ridiculously proud of himself, and powerful. He had done this to her, for her, with her. He had left her so entirely sated that she was dazed and powerless.

It was one thing to watch her pleasure herself. After needing and craving this for so long, it was an entirely different matter to hear her begging and sobbing, squealing and gasping in pleasure that _he_ was giving her. His girl was definitely responsive when she masturbated, but those genuine, spontaneous gasps of delight, that insistent rock of her hips... that was for him alone.

"We're doing... everything backward," she breathed, punctuated by her still-labored breaths.

"Mmm?" Idly he nuzzled against her inner thigh, stroked his tongue against it, and felt her shudder. He started to suck a hickey against her other thigh, and she combed her fingers through his hair a few times before gently pushing him away with a chuckle.

"I mean if I hadn't walked in here and marched you to bed... God, if we'd started with this and then fucked..."

He bit back his immediate reply and pushed himself up. Her legs were open wide as they slid from his shoulders, and she regarded him lazily, then leaned forward. The open-mouthed kiss she gave the skin just under his belly button, the stroke of her tongue against the flesh there, sent a jolt of arousal straight to his spent cock.

"So it was good?" He threaded his fingers through her hair, closing his eyes as she gently bit him just above his hip.

"Mmm." Her throaty affirmation left him damning his recovery time. She stroked his ass, sucked at the flesh just above the base of his cock.

Ned groaned and released her, moving to sit beside her on the couch. "To be continued," he told her, gravely serious, as she lazily blinked her sleepy blue eyes at him. He'd only felt her mouth on his actual cock twice, and he was _definitely_ eager to repeat the experience, once he could fully participate.

She sighed and leaned against him, and slowly they adjusted until he was on his back and she was draped over him, her cheek nestled against the hollow of his shoulder, her bare breasts pressed against his chest, her bent leg slung across his hips. Even this... he had been starved for this sensation, hungry for it.

_Look, don't touch._

"Why tonight?" he murmured, his fingertips lightly trailing up and down her spine. The movie they were ignoring was still casting blue light over her skin, and the apartment was otherwise dark around them. Some other version of him was at Mike's house, drunk and missing her.

Then he paused, when she was slowly stirring against him. "Did something happen?"

She brought her head up to look into his eyes. "Like what?"

He shrugged. "Did something upset you?"

She blinked once, then shook her head. "Not... I mean, I woke up wet for you, which happens all the damn time..."

"Tell me more," he intoned, and she grinned, and his heart hurt in response.

"Like you aren't intimately familiar with what generally happens after." She shifted against him, and he was aware all over again that her sex was pressed against his thigh. "I've been trying so hard to... get past it, to stop being afraid... and I wanted you more than anything."

"But you keep saying tonight isn't the way you wanted it to be," he said slowly. "If you knew... I mean, we could have waited."

"I was afraid I'd jinx it," she said, with a small, apologetic smile. "That I'd lose my nerve. That I'd walk in here and strip down to some tiny lingerie and you'd say... oh, I don't even know, just that you'd turn me down."

Ned cupped her cheek, holding her gaze steadily. "I can tell you _exactly_ what I would have said. That you were fucking sexy as hell."

She glanced down, then back up into his eyes again, and he could feel her skin warming under his palm as she blushed.

"You _are_ fucking sexy as hell. And I'm so fucking sorry that I fucked it up so much that first time and made you so afraid." When her gaze dropped again, he brushed his thumb against her lips. "Are you still hurting?"

She shook her head, then glanced up at him, breathing out before she whispered, "Not really."

"Oh, baby." He pulled her up, until their faces were level, and she kissed him deeply as he combed his fingers through the silky strands of her hair, his other hand pressed against the small of her back. The taste of her arousal was still on his tongue, and she moaned softly. She shifted and her sex was pressed against his abs.

So much pent-up sexual frustration. So fucking much.

"Next weekend," he said, when she broke the kiss. "You, me, tiny lingerie, a bottle of whatever you feel like..."

"But what will I be wearing?" she asked with a teasing grin.

"Nothing at all," he growled, grinning too. "However you imagine it."

Her grin became a smile. "Like a do-over."

He shook his head. "We'll be celebrating the one-week anniversary of..."

"Me finally putting out," she finished with a small smirk. "Rolling around on some rose petals..."

"Like, how many rose petals are we talking about?"

She reached up and cupped his cheek, then brushed the tip of her nose against his. "You said once you'd give me the moon if I asked for it," she whispered. "Anything. I want your cock, Ned. I want to come over here next weekend and eat dinner with you, thinking the whole time about how fucking incredible you feel between my legs. I want to taste your cum again. I want you to take me to bed and pin me under you and fuck me hard."

His cock was valiantly attempting to answer that call, and he kissed her hungrily in response.

"Roses and champagne?"

"Fuck that," she replied, panting a little. "We can save that for our real anniversary. I want to spend the weekend in bed with you."

His stomach tensed as he tasted the words, knowing it was too much, but unable to stop himself. "Move in with me," he said, holding her gaze. "I don't mean next week, but..."

She searched his eyes. "Really?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Definitely. Please."

She paused for another breath, then nodded with a growing grin, and Ned crowed in happiness just before she planted another kiss on his lips.

"As soon as I can figure out how to tell my dad."

Ned groaned. "So, four years from now."

She shook her head. "Definitely not. You just gave me the moon, Nickerson." He was glowing with pride and arousal when she loosely straddled him, slowly grinding her hips, her slick inner flesh, against his skin. "I'll find a way to give you this."

\--

The last time Nancy saw a clock, it was twelve-thirty, so it had to be after one now. The transition between the icy sidewalk and his apartment building was like walking into a wall of warmth, almost tangible enough to knock her back.

The sight of the sign actually _did_ bring her to a sudden halt, and Ned stopped so close behind her that she could feel the warmth of his body.

"Oh my God."

"What— _really?_ "

The elevator had been working the last time Nancy had been here, and that had been yesterday. "I swear, it was working this morning," Ned muttered. "Damn."

Nancy glanced at him over her shoulder and gave him a smile. "I think we can make it."

If anything could have cooled her off, five flights of stairs should have done it. When they reached the right floor, though, she couldn't stop grinning.

At first, their wedding was going to be tiny and casual, something attended by very close friends and family, but as Nancy had often heard, the wedding wasn't actually for _them_ , it was for their parents. Eventually it had become something entirely different, but it had been fantastic.

The wedding ceremony itself had been at Ned's parents' church, witnessed only by their close loved ones. The reception had been held at a beautifully restored home that dated back over a century and a half; it had been the site of one of Nancy's first real cases, when she had first begun solving mysteries.

And the reception had been, basically, open to the public. It had become something close to standing-room only; visitors came to wish the two of them well, sampled some of the incredible food that had been provided, and gathered in heated tents that had been erected outside. People Nancy had helped out when she had been a teenager had come to see her, hug her, wish her well. Some of them remembered Ned, too. And she had met so many of his family members that she had been overwhelmed, a little. Tons of his Omega Chi brothers had shown up, Theta Pi sisters... it had been crazy, but in the best possible way.

Now it was their wedding night. For a few more hours, anyway.

Her body was tired, and she knew that; it had been hard to sleep last night, because she had been so keyed up and excited about today. But she was wide awake and exhilarated, and every glance down at the shiny new ring on her left hand made her giddy all over again.

They were _married._ For good or bad, for everything. As of a few hours ago, this wasn't Ned's apartment, it was _theirs._ Her life and his had become _theirs._

Ned had pulled his key out of his coat pocket; Nancy had her own coat unzipped, thanks to the warmth in the building and the exertion of climbing so many stairs. When she caught his eye, he grinned, and then his arm was around her and his lips were warm and sweet against hers.

That chaste kiss to seal their vows had been so many hours ago, and she knew this wasn't the point of marriage, but she wanted him so badly that she could taste it. She giggled when he backed her against his door and stroked his tongue against hers, and suddenly her coat was _way_ too hot. In fact, all of her clothes were.

They broke the kiss with an audible pop, and her eyes were sparkling as she gazed up into his. "Maybe we should continue this inside, Mrs. Nickerson," he suggested with a grin.

"Definitely, Mr. Nickerson."

He sighed, shaking his head in wonder as he fitted the key into the lock. "You know, when I asked you to move in with me..."

"What?" She blinked at him, all angelic innocence. "Now I have."

"Yeah, _seven months_ later." He swung the door open, pocketing his key. "When all this time we could have been waking up together, having incredibly dirty sex..."

"Like there wasn't plenty of that anyway." She took a step forward. "I'll try to make tonight worth the wait."

He stopped her with an extended arm, and then bent down. Nancy cried out softly in surprise, looping her arm around his shoulders when he picked her up.

"Really?" she said softly, but she was smiling, and her gaze was soft as it met his.

He nodded. "Really," he replied, and carried her over the threshold.

During the seven months since their first _real_ night together, it had become a running joke between them. Everything would have been perfect if...

And Nancy had joined in the teasing, too. If _only_ Ned had serenaded her with an entire Meat Loaf album, on his knees beside the bed crooning up at her. If _only_ Ned had answered his door to find her there wearing only strategically placed strips of fruit leather. If _only_ there had been inflatable dinosaur pool toys. If _only_ it had been the height of the Russian revolution and they had been... well, that one had been sidetracked by a kiss that had ended with both of them naked.

The joking hadn't hidden any dissatisfaction, not on Nancy's part. She had been hung up on her image of how the night should have been, until it was over and she knew it had been perfect. They had been together, fully wrapped up in and consumed by desire for each other. All those other things didn't matter.

But when he stepped into his apartment with her in his arms, it looked significantly different than it had the day before, when she had dropped off her honeymoon luggage in anticipation of tonight.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with tears as she realized what he had done and turned back to him.

The most direct path between the front door and the bedroom had been scattered with red rose petals between a rough border of flickering candles—which spiked her anxiety for a second, before she realized they were flameless. He slowly carried her all the way to the bedroom, where more candles flickered on the bedside tables, and a puffy pure-white comforter had been spread over his bed and scattered with even more rose petals. On his dresser she saw a sweating silver bucket with a champagne bottle nestled inside, and two empty flutes beside it, waiting for them.

A tear streaked down her cheek. "You remembered."

He smiled as he lowered her to the bed. "Of course I did," he said softly. "I drafted my aunt to help. She thought it sounded very, very romantic."

"It is." She sniffled and brushed the tear away. "Wow. I... I love you, baby."

"And I love you."

He wrestled off his coat, and she had hers halfway off when he returned to her, leaning down to pin her as he kissed her deeply. After a few halfhearted attempts she gave up trying to pull her other arm out of the coat's sleeve and just gave in, relaxing under him. Her ivory cashmere sweater was warm and silky against her skin, but when Ned began to slide his hand underneath, she nipped at his lip in encouragement, reaching for her fly.

She hadn't been thinking of tonight the same way she had that first night, but she had still dressed carefully anyway. They separated to quickly strip down, and Nancy shimmied out of her pants last, then stood near the foot of his bed. The white lace teddy she wore was entirely sheer, with a deep plunge neckline and a thong back. It wasn't as daring as some of the other lingerie she had seen in the store, but she was a bride, after all. It managed to be sweet, sexy, and flattering, and that was all she had wanted.

Ned moaned in appreciation when he saw her. "God, you're fucking gorgeous."

She did a slow turn for him, grinning when his view of her back provoked another quiet moan. "You like?"

"Mmm." He came up behind her and slid his arms around her, and she could feel his erection against the small of her back as she relaxed against him. He brought a hand up so he could brush his thumb against her nipple, clearly visible and hard through the whisper-thin fabric, and she moaned softly in return.

"Champagne, beautiful?"

"Yes, please."

The heat was definitely on in the apartment, but it was working hard against the freezing conditions outside. Nancy slid under the covers, giggling as the motion sent a small fluttering of rose petals to the floor. Ned popped the cork on the champagne bottle with a triumphant laugh, then carefully poured them each a flute. When he turned with a glass in each hand and saw her, his grin became a small pout.

"You're too beautiful to be covered up."

"And I'm too cold not to be," she retorted with a smile, reaching for the flute. "I would say we've toasted enough, but..."

Ned shook his head as he slid into bed beside her, then tapped his glass against hers. "To us," he said. "To knowing I'm going to spend the rest of my life with my best friend."

A warm, happy glow rose inside her as she grinned. It faded to a smile as she gazed into his eyes. "To the end of fear."

His own smile became tender, and he reached up to brush his thumb over the curve of her cheek. "To knowing that we'll always find a way through it, somehow."

The fizzy wine had never been her favorite, but it was decent. She downed her glass and placed it on the bedside table, then turned back to Ned. The flicker of artificial candlelight caught his wedding band, and her heart skipped a beat again.

Somehow, impossibly, this would be their new normal. Waking up beside him, going to sleep beside him, sharing so much of his life. Seeing him just out of the shower, just coming home from work... wearing the band she had placed on his left ring finger. Everyone who saw him would know his heart belonged to someone else.

A part of her still couldn't believe any of this was real. Their engagement had been practically the definition of casual, their wedding planned as little as possible. All Nancy had really chosen, other than her dress and the rings they would wear, was the theme for their reception invitations.

_We are over the moon to announce our marriage._

And then his fingers were in her hair and he was bending to kiss her, and she breathed him in all over again. From the wedding ceremony onward, they had been together, and dancing so close to him all night and smelling his familiar aftershave had made her almost delirious with joy. She had so many memories of him that were keyed to that scent, and this... this, tonight, would become another.

He looped an arm around her and pulled her close, sliding down, and after another kiss she was straddling his naked body as his fingertips traced the straps crossing over her back and the minuscule thong beneath. Her tongue was in his mouth as he hooked his thumb under the silk string holding up the front, and he slid the strap down her shoulder. With a shrug, her breast was bared, and she gasped at the feel of his chest against her naked nipple. God, he was solid muscle under her, and she could just feel the head of his cock brushing the join of her thighs. All it would take was nudging the string of her thong aside and fitting him inside her...

Her inner flesh pulsed weakly at the thought. She shrugged down the other strap, then gripped his shoulders, practically naked as she rose over him. The thin fabric barely covering the trimmed join of her thighs was already soaked with her arousal.

He covered her breasts with his palms, fondling her nipples as he gazed up at her. "So beautiful," he murmured again, and a warm glow of pleasure washed over her. "How do you want it, baby?"

"Slow," she whispered. "If you think you can hold out."

"I'll see what I can do." He gave her breasts one last gentle squeeze, then slid his palms down her sides, to the lace pooled at her hips. "But first, maybe I can warm you up a little..."

There had been a time, before they had started fooling around, that his suggestion would have scandalized her. Now, it just made her tender in breathless anticipation.

He slowly drew her teddy down her bare, smooth legs and had her bring her hips to the edge of the bed, where she could cover herself if she wanted, and then knelt on the floor between her open legs. Her knees were bent and her legs were open as wide as she could; even before the first suggestion of his touch or breath against her skin, she was rubbing her flat palms over her hard nipples, squirming at the stimulation as it heightened her already overwhelming arousal.

Then he drew her clit into his mouth and suckled against it, hard.

The sensation, when she was already so keyed up, was intense enough to arch her back and roll her eyes back, too. She cried out his name, sucking in a deep breath that became its own cry as he suckled again.

He was on his knees, going down on her, on their wedding night. She wanted him, wanted _this_ , so badly that her orgasm crashed over her a few moments later, and he still didn't stop. She sobbed and gasped, reaching down to close her fist in his hair as she used her other hand to keep fondling her nipples. It was so much, too much—

Her pleasure spiked and she released a high, shrill scream, breathless, her hips trembling as she bucked weakly. His teeth glanced over her clit and she panted harshly, pinching a nipple. Her tender, slippery inner flesh was pulsing around nothing, and she was so wet.

"Jesus _Christ_ ," she gasped, then moaned at the next flick of his tongue. "Baby, I'm so fucking wet for you..."

He moved back slightly. "Now?"

"Please," she begged, almost whimpered. She was so hot that she tossed the covers away, leaving her completely exposed to him as he stood. As he took a step forward, she wrapped her legs loosely around him, her palms sliding down over her belly so she could part her sex. Even that faint stimulation against her swollen clit made her gasp.

"Mmm," Ned groaned, glancing down. "Just like that, gorgeous."

He supported her hips with one hand, keeping her arched up to the right height for him, as he worked with her to guide his cock in place. As he came into contact with the slippery warmth of her arousal, his mouth dropped open. "Jesus, baby," he murmured.

"For you," she told him. "Only, always for you."

He shifted his angle to drag the thick length of his cock against the plush, slippery lips of her sex, using the lube her body was providing them. Then he angled again, and they both moaned as the head of his cock butted against her tender, sensitized opening.

He moved inside her, and God, this never got old for her. With a steady push of his hips he was buried fully between her legs, and she closed her eyes, adjusting to the girth and length of him. "Yesssss," she whispered, tightening around him when he brushed his thumb over her clit.

Ned groaned as he pulled out for another thrust. She was so wet that he was gliding smoothly inside her, and she gasped when he pressed into her again. "Mmmm," she moaned, and pinched one of her nipples again. The sensations made her hips jerk toward his.

"So good, baby," he panted. " _Fuck_."

Then his weight shifted and he was pinning her down, driving in and out of her in rough, delirious thrusts as he kept stroking her clit, and her second climax hit her with such force that she couldn't seem to catch her breath. She sobbed, high and whimpering and desperate, and when he grunted and collapsed she caught him in her arms, her nails digging against his skin as her inner flesh throbbed around his cock.

Her heart was thundering and so was his, and she came back to herself slowly. She felt gloriously exhausted, and smiled when she realized that her hand was trailing over his back, stroking up and down with the gentlest brush of her fingertips over his sweat-dampened skin.

Her husband.

It still felt surreal. Everything about today felt surreal, save _this_. The weight of him in her arms and the sensation of him filling her, of being perfectly joined.

He made a soft sound, and then he moved and his mouth was against hers. She returned his kiss, her chin tipped up and her fingers in his hair.

Her legs were spread wide, and his were off the bed. If he relaxed any more, he would likely slump to his knees again. And _that_ mental image made her pulse weakly around him once more.

She nudged him with the hand still stroking his back and he pulled back to gaze at her, his gaze soft and warm. "That can't be comfortable," she commented softly.

"You feel so perfect," he told her, and she melted. Then he sighed. "I guess I'll clean us up."

When he went to the bathroom for a washcloth for her, she stood on still-wobbly legs and crossed to the champagne bucket again. She had refilled their flutes when he returned, and was gazing down at her feet with a bemused expression on her face.

"Hmm?" He held up the washcloth.

She gestured down. "Rose petals," she murmured.

He nodded and stepped close to her, and she tipped her face up for a kiss that ended with her braced against the dresser, arm looped around his shoulders, entirely in his power and completely in love. She took the cloth and wiped her thighs, then slid her other arm around him and pressed close to him. He held her tight, and she closed her eyes.

"I'm so tired," he murmured. "I just don't want tonight to end."

She smiled. "It doesn't have to."

He pressed a kiss against her temple, then her cheekbone. "It's real," he breathed against her skin, and she giggled softly, squeezing him in return. "When I wake up tomorrow..."

"When we wake up, it'll be the first _full_ day of our life together."

"And what can we possibly do to celebrate that?"

He pulled back to gaze down at her, and she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Well, the pesky thing about the moon... it seems to find its way back to the sky every night."

"Then I'll just have to bring it back to you."

She nodded. "And I'll just have to reward you for it," she replied, and smiled. His cheek was warm under her palm, and then he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss against it. "My husband."

"My wife," he replied, and they both laughed at the joy of it as he carried her to the bed again.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published elsewhere. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving feedback!


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